


Best two out of three

by dev_chieftain



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev_chieftain/pseuds/dev_chieftain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a rainy summer's day, Hawke attempts to arrange a sojourn to the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best two out of three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaineddove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/gifts).



Summer comes down on Kirkwall like a storm, if storms can be composed of mosquitoes and sweat and bad moods, and no one is safe from its encroach. Hawke, who makes it her business to adapt, annoys everyone by consistently pretending it's plenty cool enough to be wearing her full jacket over slacks and shirt. She even has the brass to don her armor and go out fighting when Aveline complains it's too blasted hot and refuses to go down to the beach until it rains. If the heat weren't bad enough, the humidity is vicious, and lays out most of them, moaning and complaining quite justifiably about how nasty it is to feel sweaty all the time, and not even in the good way. Clouds pool and swarm all around, making the sky grayer and grayer until at last, in the middle of an especially excruciating week, the tension finally bursts and rain comes down in torrents, washing away the sweat and the bugs and the filth and the unpleasantness. It rains and rains, and rains.

"D'you think it'll ever stop?" Bethany complains, as they pick their way through the mucky wet streets of Lowtown. She's trying not to get her boots soaked through, but of course, that's impossible, and it's only going to get worse after they pick up Isabela and Varric at the Hanged Man. "It's really awful," she complains, and her sister laughs, lifting her shield with a smile.

"Come on under the shelter, then, Bethy. I'll not get you too wet."

"You look ridiculous," Bethany accuses, laughing, "all scruffy." And she does, bedraggled with her wet hair sticking every which way like that. All the same, there's something about seeing her sister rosy-cheeked and merry-eyed that is contagious, and in no time at all, they saunter into the Hanged Man laughing.

"Varric!" Hawke roars, throwing her arms wide, heedless of the long wet stringy clumps of hair plastered down over her face. "Work!"

From somewhere in the back of the restaurant comes the gruff complaint: "No!"

"It's raining, it's fine!"

"I'm not going out there!"

"Varric," Hawke says, in that warning tone that says she's about to embarrass someone and is trying to be a good sport before she bullies them around. It is a tone Bethany knows well, and it makes her hide her face behind her hand, giggling. "Don't make me carry you."

From beside the bar, Isabela detaches herself, still carrying a mug of ale and sashaying gracefully over to lean into Hawke's shoulder with a friendly purr. Bethany waves to her cheerfully, and she smiles back, winking.

"They'll be at it a while," Bethany promises. "Unless Varric's ready to go now."

"He just finished a manuscript." Keeping her voice to a stage-whisper, Isabela chuckles and polishes off the rest of her ale. "Ah, balls. Hawke, do you _really_ want us traipsing around in this? We're liable to break our ankles. Think of poor Bethy, ey?"

"Bethany," Hawke answers primly, " _wants_ to come. Don't you, Bethy."

Bethany is beside herself with laughter at Isabela's exaggerated eyeroll, and her sister's smug self-satisfaction, but she manages to nod to show that she is, indeed, voluntarily braving the storm. With a shrug and smirk, Isabela sets her mug back down on someone else's table, ignoring the grunt of irritation from the mercenary sitting there. "Right, well, if you're going, I guess I'll go."

Varric's voice, thoroughly unruffled, informs them, "That's mutiny, Rivaini, and you know it."

"Bethy wants to go!"

"Sunshine is a poor judge of character, bless her soul," Varric shoots back as he emerges from his rooms in the back of the tavern, Bianca slung over his shoulders and pen ink still staining his fingertips. Bethany just grins at him as he bows before her. "I guess if she's going, I'll have to join you after all. Just my luck, too. I was getting to the really good stuff."

"Oh?" Isabela crowds closer as they turn to leave, either trying to gain cover from Bethany or shelter her against the rain. The storm has the bad manners to blow the water right in their faces, which defeats their best intentions and leaves them, for better or worse, 'glistening'. "Which novel was it, Varric? You've got so many, I'm still trying to catch up."

Ignoring them all, Hawke gestures grandly at the overcast sky. "I now officially command you all to come with me to hunt silverleaf at the beach. I want to collect some for mum before dinnertime."

Bethany snickers. "Lies, you want it for the dog."

Ignoring her, Hawke goes on with big doe eyes at Isabela-- or maybe more accurately at Isabela's assets. "You see, my mother has a great fondness for silverleaf that in no way has anything to do with Mabaris playing in it."

They link arms, Isabela smooshing her cheek to Hawke's shoulder and sighing as if very, very put upon. "Yes, indeed, I've heard your mother does have a fondness for the medicinal benefits of silverleaf. But ho, I've an idea! Instead of walking through the rain and muck and bloodyminded bandits to the beach, couldn't we bother Darktown's healer for a bunch? Your mumsy'll never know the difference, I swear."

Hawke scowls, Bethany blushes, and Varric erupts into laughter. Looking about them all, Isabela flails, trying to push her now-sopping wet hair from her eyes.

She demands, "What? What is it? Oh, I've missed something glorious, now, I can tell!"

Hawke simply shakes her head, with all that big-sister finality she has. It's a good thing Bethany doesn't mind being doted on, or it might get a little frustrating. "He made a pass at Bethany. You _know_ the punishment for that is shunning. Don't you?" Isabela makes a moue of innocence and Hawke squints at her. "Well, no excuses now and no hitting on Bethany. You do quite enough damage with Merrill already."

"Spoilsport."

" _If_ you wish to hit on a Hawke, you may hit on me. I won't mind. I might even like it." Hawke says pleasantly, affecting graciousness even as Bethany rolls her eyes and drops back to giggle at Varric, who is pantomiming Hawke's melodramatics perfectly. He winks up at her.

"Well, if _that's_ the way of things, I'm all for it!" Just like that, Isabela lunges up to kiss Bethany's sister right in front of her, which quickly turns into a floundering of limbs as Isabela locks her legs around Hawke's waist and Hawke brings up both arms to hold her close, gamely carrying Isabela up the street. Egging them on, Bethany cheers as Hawke stumbles forward and they keep kissing each other, growling like it's some kind of contest.

Varric begins counting down from ten, while Bethany covers her face with her hands, positively embarrassed and laughing helplessly. The rain is not helping matters, as it has more or less molded Isabela's already revealing clothing to her body in dangerously lascivious fashion. Heads are turning, Varric is shouting "Three! Two! Annnnd--"

Hawke's knees give out before she and Isabela break apart, and Isabela jumps off of her just in time to avoid hitting the ground, crowing her victory, arms up, exultant under the rain.


End file.
